Who Am I? Bipolar Suffers Deep Dark Depression Excessive Misery, Gloom Despair and Me

My life dealing with Bipolar Disorder has been a jumble of sleepless nights, and both ends of the spectrum of emotions. My ups are as high as they can go and my lows so far down past the point that the average person has ever seen.

My morning began, well began long before the sun rose. If I want to be technical my night and day all merged into one. The air was crisp and the night beautiful, but I just was not in a place to enjoy any part of it.

How can I explain what it feels like inside my head?
Imagine if nothing but angry butterflies filled your head. That may seem ridiculous, but the mental illness of bipolar disorder can feel as if it sends your mind spinning out of control.

The thoughts that float around inside my brain go from having no context to being so deep. Imagine that your body and soul is like a line of dominos situated waiting to fall at just a slight flick of a finger. That is what I feel right now.

It is hard to breathe, hard to swallow. Bipolar Disorder is my life. It is who I am, and it can make life difficult.

The feelings that swarm can feel like a vise is squeezing so tight my ribs might crush. The pounding in my head seems like a million little villagers echoing the arrival of an enemy. Pounding, pounding. Drums that never stop, only get louder.

My arms and hands are numb, tingling. It makes the simple act of typing this blog a tough task. I can't think straight; I can't focus on things. All of that is how I feel today; it is just a day in the life of me. My Bipolar world.

Being Bipolar is such a rollercoaster of emotions that the days like today that go down so fast are some of the most difficult times I experience.

Dealing with the pain that comes from everywhere and nowhere at the same time makes me feel strange. Even those around me that deal with my moments of darkness and quiet solitude have a difficult time. It is not easy to deal with me.

I know they suffer from the desire to make me 'better'. It is just my reality. Sure, it is not perfect, but what part of life is perfection?

Everyone always wants to do something to make it stop, and everyone spends a lot of time saying 'I'm Sorry.' When the real truth is that it is no one's fault it is nothing anyone has done; it is nothing that I have done. It merely just one of the days of my life.

All I want to do is find somewhere dark, wrap in a warm blanket, cry myself into oblivion, and just sit. Depression is that way. Even when you have nothing to be depressed about, that is the actual existence for the Bipolar.

I try to always remind myself 'this too will pass'.Those little words are a mantra in my mind as I know the sadness I feel will cease, eventually.

Life's Little Ups and Downs Like a Merry Go Round Yet Mine is More Rollercoaster

Life has it's little ups and downs like ponies on a merry go round. ---- Ricky Van Shelton

That may be true, but mine definitely doesn't go round, and round it spins wildly in all directions.
Lately, it feels as if the lows are the only thing. This gives me the feeling of darkness that at times is overwhelming. But, as for the world, I keep the darkness to myself. When we have trials, we hide that, never letting anyone know anything.
I will never post to the world that there are financial strains in my life. I will never post to the world that I am ill. For me, those things are something you keep to yourself.
Even, though I see every day where people are airing their entire lives to the rest of the world. That is not me. Sure, I can hear everyone as they read my blog, say that I air everything. But I really don't. I keep all of that hidden away, this blog is my way of explaining what it feels like to live with bipolar disorder and what it is to deal with head injury in a family.


My life has been a rollercoaster of astronomical proportions. I have had ups so high it will give you a nosebleed and lows so low if I were still that little girl in the '60s I would have found China.

That is just how it is when you live with bipolar disorder. But my life hasn't stopped there I have endured the aftermath of my husband's head injury which takes a person on such a ride all by itself.
Funny when we were dealing with his injury at one point we ended up in a therapist's office. (Not that therapy was a new thing for me.) Anyway as we talked about what was going on, Lynn's doctor insisted we see the therapist because she thought he was suicidal, and that I was too close to the current situation to know better.


So then we sat in the office of an excellent therapist and spent hours talking. After we had discussed everything, the man very calmly looked at Lynn and spoke. "You are not depressed, and honestly you are handling your situation very well. However, your wife has problems, and I could make a career in helping her."

That has been my life. I have been in many positions like that. When I began having heart trouble I went to many; many doctors had every test possible. Spent hours, weeks, months hooked up to monitors. Eventually, I sat in the teaching center for the heart in St. Louis. Laying back on the examination table hooked to yet another machine. I had experienced so many it was old hat to me by now.

Good thing it was because you truly aren't a person in situations like this. Because here I sat with wires connected to me, my hospital gown spread wide open for God and everybody to see EVERYTHING. That was when I looked out the window to see I was situated straight across from the train station and it was CROWDED!!!! So my modesty aside I just waved at everyone. I mean what else could I do, try to hide. They had already witnessed all my glory so what was the use.

The end of my visit there resulted in: "We know you are sick, we are aware you are having these episodes. We just don't know why." Then they went on to tell me to go home and "live stress-free."

Seriously, Stress-free? How in the world was I supposed to do that? I had two small kids, a husband with a head injury and then just life in general. I mean I am bipolar how stress-free can that be?

So world, you can see that my rollercoaster has had so many ups and downs.

Who Am I? Spring has Sprung

Spring is one of my favorite times of the year. All the flowers are popping their little heads up and showing such bright, beautiful smiling faces to the world so tired after a long winter.

Easter lilies blooming makes me think of MamEaster lilies blooming makes me think of Mama and when I see the first tulips open up and I remember the Easter Sunday my family celebrated at Uncle Floyd's farm down at Lanton.


It was a glorious spring day the sun was shining, and we were all gathered together having a beautiful day. Then I followed a cousin to the tulips. Following my cousin to the beautiful flowers would prove to be a bad mistake. But we were little kids. Lisa said let's pick 'em. It's okay she said cause Aunt Hazel was her grandma, so it had to be okay. Right?

Well, Daddy didn't see it that way. Boy, was he mad? I had to apologize and then so I wouldn't forget what I had done, they insisted that every picture had to include the tulips. He told me that way I would remember and not pick someone else' flowers without permission again. Boy, it worked on me, Still, couldn't bring myself to pick someone's flowers today.

But what can I say, I love the beginning of each season the crisp, fresh air of fall mixed with the beautiful colors of the trees. Then, as fall has ended in rushes the snow that I totally adore and then we have summer with the warmth that wraps you like a blanket in its arms.

Today I will just concentrate on the beauty of the new growth that fills the trees and the flowers which are poking up to greet me with a vibrancy that is truly magical.

These are all things that being bipolar has caused me to learn to focus on. When my mind stays on point with something even as trivial as the blooming of a tiny flower it makes handling the complexities of life far easier. I have my methods of handling this thing that I was born with, and I hope that others who face the same trials can learn this little trick as well.

Who Am I? A Child That Grew Up In the 60's in an Ozarks Small Town

Growing up in the 60’s was something out of a movie. It was more “Leave it to Beaver” than anything. But then my life took an outside corner. I was diagnosed “manic depressive” at five years of age. Diagnosed at a time when the term bi-polar was not a common name. This diagnosis came into my life long before it was popular to be bipolar.

It most definitely was not popular, and to some degree, I think my parents were embarrassed that I wasn’t perfect. As they put “like my brother.” But it would become part of me, and I would have to come to terms with that.

How do you come to terms with something like this when you are only 5? All I knew for sure was I was told not to say anything to anyone about it, and they wanted me to “get over it” so I could move on.

Obviously, I did not nor could I just get over it. Bipolar is who I am.

Hiding this within me became second nature. Still, I remember the nights of fear when I would have manic episodes and no one to help me through them. I am not condemning my parents, this was a strange thing, and they had no idea what to do. They both were of the period when you got over your ‘illnesses, ’ and they only wanted for me to move on.

Those dark nights when I could hear my heart beat so loud, it felt as if the entire world could hear the pounding that I heard. It was a severe pounding, and I felt as if I would die if I closed my eyes. So night after night when that pounding began and I feared not just death, but absolutely everything, all I could think was that I was not normal.

Not feeling healthy is a horrible thing for a child. And my greatest wish was not to be a problem to my parents.

The mania ran all over me at times. Even to the point, I would get my school pictures, and as the whole class exchanged photos, I would participate only to run around later begging for them back.
It was a tough time living a life that I didn’t understand and having no one to explain anything to me.

I only desired to “get over it, ” and it felt as if it got worse every day. I would be many years before I understood anything.

I hope you will go on this journey with me as I describe what it was like to be bipolar long before anyone talked about it. Hopefully, my story will help at least one person to realize they are not alone.

So welcome, to this story of me. I am BIPOLAR, and I am not ashamed.

Who am I? Panic Attacks, Pain, and Seclusion a Bipolar Moment

Who am I? Well, today I am a bipolar woman who has had a rough month or so. I am just now feeling like I am once again part of the human race. Honestly, I don't know where my mind has been for the last month or so, it has had a mind of its own.

Life is not comfortable, no matter who you are, or what you comes your way. That's just the sad, cold truth of things. But when you deal with Bipolar Disorder on top of what life throws at you, well it can be more of an uphill struggle.

This last month or so, I have had panic attack after panic attack. The episodes have been so bad that for a significant part of the time I have had to use oxygen to help me even breathe. It feels like I can't catch my breath and that makes my heart work even harder. To top off my existence, I have an arrhythmia (Afib) issue accelerated when one of these attacks strikes.

I have kept as secluded as possible during this mentally difficult time, and I am just now feeling like I can join the world to some degree. Sure, I am not the most social person in the world. I would rather stay away from the hustle and bustle that the rest of the society calls life, I like the peace and quiet of solitude. I am the luckiest woman in the world to have a little family that understands I am better off away from crowds.

It is not fun. As a small child, I can remember sitting in the corner of my bed or even hidden in the back of my closet as one would grab me. I felt as if I were dying because I had no idea what was happening. At times I would sit with my hand on my heart wondering if I was dead. It was terrifying, to say the least.

Imagine as a child that your heart is beating so fast you feel like you will pass out and you have no idea what to do. Imagine that everyone tells you that it is in your head. They keep telling you to stop being dramatic. But this is not something that I want to do; it is not something I can make myself no do. The reality of panic attacks and Afib episodes are what life is like for me.

So, here I sit once again needing the oxygen machine to help me calm my racing heart and ease my shortness of breath. Why does this happen? I honestly wish I knew, the only thing I am sure of lies in the fact that it does happen.